PRAGUE - Sitting in a Salzburg Burger King over a fortnight ago, I realized that I am that ugly American. It's not even worth trying to hide that I hurry towards the familiar. I Google Starbucks locations before I go on trips - glad to throw down four Euros for a sip of my beloved grande iced coffee with skim milk - and I've been to the Golden Arches in four countries since British Airways dropped me off in Prague at the end of August.
But during my afternoon feast in a Bratislava McDonald's last Sunday, holding a juicy McChicken and refreshing Coca Light, I suddenly felt like I was about to bite into the modern-day equivalent of Eve's Golden Apple. With only a precious few hours in the capital city of a new land, shouldn't I be going for cabbage rolls or the zabijacka pork sausage surprise instead?
I had a four-hour bus ride ahead of me and the other option was beef fajita casserole at an empty Mexican joint, so it wasn't hard to decide to "supersize it." But I was still slightly embarrassed by my obvious, unabashed love for America-driven globalization.
At that moment I made a promise to myself, a promise that for every mouth-watering McChicken bite I took, I would make up for my sacrilege by doing something to cleanse my cultural palate and extend myself to a world outside my comfort zone.
The sad fact of the matter, though, is that nowadays you can literally travel through Europe coasting from InterContinental Hotel to Four Seasons, Subway to Burger King, throwing in a morning croissant and cappuccino to feel like you're supporting the local culture, and never really see anything at all.
Cities, cathedrals, castles, even museums - they all start to blend together when you take the scripted tour and hit scenic vistas with digital camera in tow, looking to chronicle adventures that will just become notches in your "call me cosmopolitan" belt and never become unique or memorable. Granted, the risks of trying a small out-of-the-way pub and getting ripped off are growing unfortunately high, especially in areas where Americans are often seen as walking, loudly-talking easy money.
Yet there's hope: We're young. We can handle bad goulash, getting off at the wrong train station or finding out our hostel doesn't have shower curtains and is filled to the brim with drunk and dreadlocked German backpackers.
We can even accidentally find ourselves 12 steps from the nudist terrace in a Budapest bathhouse where a smorgasbord of Fabios and Bea Arthurs are happily tanning and socializing in their birthday suits, making the most of a lazy Saturday, as I did last week. And without even realizing it, we might even discover a world of culture not advertised on the tourist menu.
But how is this all applicable to life for all of you back in Rhode Island? Sure, you may go back to the bayou, the Big Apple or the cornfields after graduation, but if you're going to live on the East Coast for four years, there's absolutely no rationale for not making the most out of that time in our beloved little Ocean State. Whether it's experiencing clam rolls, touring Newport mansions, meeting the kids at Fox Point Elementary School or venturing to Cumberland, R.I., exploring a little can make a world of a difference in shaping the way you remember your time in Providence.
Sure, Providence might not be Bratislava, but it's probably different than your hometown, and therefore it's probably worth getting to know what lies beyond the two-mile radius we know and love. Bottom line, we shouldn't graduate as tourists in our own home.
And just save those McFlurries and popcorn chicken buckets as God's gift to late nights and Sundays when everything else in Slovakia is closed.
Courtney Jenkins '07 has an alter ego who lives on the second floor of Marcy House, but she's a nudist.
